Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Oh, my God!” she screeches in my ear. “Oh, my God, Lyra! You did it! You actually did it!”
I laugh helplessly, wrapping my arms around her. “Yeah. I did.”
She pulls back just enough to stare at me, eyes shining. “Tell me everything. Every. Single. Thing.”
“It was so awkward.”
She cackles. “That’s exactly the hot gossip I want to hear.”
I sigh. “He asked me all these questions about my resumé and my senior project and why I was waitressing instead of coding.”
She nods, eyes wide. “And what did you say?”
“I told him the truth,” I say, shrugging. “That I needed to wait tables to pay the bills.”
Becca whistles low.
“He respected it,” I admit. “I think.”
She grins. “Of course he did. That’s you. Blunt and honest to a fault.”
I squirm a little. “Yeah, well. He pushed. He asked about my experience with different programs, my research, why I wanted to work at Integrated Solutions.”
“And you answered flawlessly, I assume,” she says with a flourish. “So how much is the pay? Tell me it’s worth the embarrassment of working for your new crush.”
“High six figures,” I say, unable to help bragging a little.
Becca gasps. “Holy shit, Lyra. That’s insane. That’s more than both of us make in a year combined. That’s more than what the both of us make in five years!”
I grin helplessly. “Yeah. It’s a lot of money.”
She punches my arm. “Tell me you accepted the offer.”
“I did!”
Becca squeals again, bouncing. “We’re rich, we’re rich!”
“We’re not rich!” I argue.
“Fine,” she groans. “You are going to be rich and graciously be my Sugar Mama.”
“For what in return?” I giggle.
“My undying devotion?”
I roll my eyes.
Her smile turns shark-like. “How was he?”
My cheeks flame. “Becca.”
She leans closer. “How was Mr. Sexy Russian CEO in the cold light of day?”
I sigh and slump. “He was sexier,” I admit.
Her eyes go wide. “Sexier?”
I nod miserably. “It made being professional almost impossible. His suit looked spray-painted on. His hair was so perfectly in place, all I could think about was running my fingers through it and messing it up. And his voice is like sin. And the office was so intimidating. It was all glass and dark wood and this giant desk that I swear was made for…”
I stop.
Becca’s eyes light up. “Made for what, Lyra?”
“Nothing!”
She howls with laughter again.
I grab a pillow and smack her repeatedly until she wheezes for mercy.
Finally, she subsides into giggles.
“God, I love this. So you’re saying you’re gonna be professional and not think about him at all from now on, right?”
I clear my throat.
She gives me a wicked grin. “Right?”
I scowl. “I have to. He’s my boss now.”
Becca snorts. “Yeah, because that’s gonna stop you.”
“It has to!”
She wiggles her eyebrows. “Just try not to moan his name in your sleep, okay? Thin walls.”
I throw the pillow at her head one more time. Finally, she groans that she’s dead on her feet and stops teasing me mercilessly. She heads to bed, and I go to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge to find something to heat up for lunch.
I eat the reheated spaghetti slowly as I consider what this job is going to look like. Maybe, over time, it will be easier to be around him. Maybe I won’t want to jump his bones every time I see him, and I’ll prove what a great asset I am to the team. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, and I don’t want to blow it over some hot man.
Monday morning hits me like a freight train, but I’m ready when it comes. I’ve spent the whole weekend preparing, buying some new clothes on my overused credit card, and putting in my notice at the restaurant. That was the sweetest part of all of this.
Outside of Integrated Solutions, I straighten my skirt and lift my chin. I’m finally starting my dream job.
When I get inside, a security guard hands me a temporary badge and gives me a packet of instructions for my first day. I take the elevator up to my designated floor, watching the numbers tick by, my heart rate rising with every ding.
When the doors open, a woman with perfectly coiffed hair greets me with a polite smile.
“Lyra Taylor?”
I nod, swallowing.
“Welcome. You’ll be with Mark today. He’ll get you settled.”
She gestures to a tall, balding man who appears out of nowhere, holding a clipboard.
“Lyra,” he says warmly. “Glad to have you on board. Come on, I’ll show you where you’ll be working.”
I follow him down a long hallway, past glass-walled offices where important-looking people tap at keyboards or talk into headsets. He opens a door and waves me through. The room is large and bright, lined with tall windows overlooking the city. Desks sit in neat rows, each with dual monitors and ergonomic chairs. It buzzes with quiet conversation and the clack of keyboards. Programmers. My people.